Ignited
by silversparklemoonlight
Summary: Fire destroys. Water replenishes. 12 districts. 24 tributes. Water flows. Fire constrains. One rule. One Nation. One Capitol. A drop falls. A spark grows ablaze. "Let the annual games begin." AU. Hunger Games and Avatar: The Last Airbender Crossover


**A/N: IMPORTANT: Ok, just a few things to make clear before we begin:**

**1. This is a cross over between Hunger Games and Avatar the Last Airbender.**

**2. This will eventually turn into a Zutara fic and faintly a Jetara. You will see what I mean later on. Also, apologies to Kataang fans. Sorry but if you are a true hater of Zutara, this is not the story for you.**

**3. Important! Okay, so this takes place before any of the events in Avatar: The Last Airbender occurred. There will be some things/ideas and characters I use from the show but Katara and Sokka finding the Aang in the ice never occurs. Zuko being banished from the Fire Nation never happens (although he does have the Agni Kai with his father... I will explain more in depth about that later in the story). So mostly none of the events in the show ever happen! **

**4. This will be in Katara's Pov, so yeah. **

**5. Don't forget to review! It's what makes me update more frequently. So if you want continuous updates just leave a little review at the end of this chapter. **

** Enjoy! **

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Prologue: Moving Forward and Letting Go

* * *

"Sokka!"

My feet carry me as fast as I will them to go, my arms driving me forth. In the near distance -through the veil of ashes and dust- I barely see the seal skin hide wrapped under a bristly fur coat. I squint, seeing a faint recognition of the traditional boomerang gripped in his palm. Yes, it's Sokka. My eyes water with tears, overwhelmed with gratification that he was alright and alive. He turns on his heel, the same relief dawning in his eyes. We both stare seeming to have forgotten of the crumpling village around us. He was safe; I was safe. That was all that mattered.

Running up to him, I jump into his arms and wrap mine around him in a suffocating hug. Sobs rack free from the back of my throat, the dread and terror needing to be expressed. My arms constrict tighter around his waist, my head burying further into the skinned pelt longing for the comfort I so desperately craved. I snuggled further into his chest, my tears drenching the wool.

My voice croaks -worn out from the screams and yells recently before. "Sokka, everyone. Everybody-" I stutter, unbelieving of the truth myself. "Sokka. They're all dead. Augus, Hara, Pero. They're all dead."

Upon the notification of Augus I feel his fingers curl around the back of my jacket and his breathing pause for a moment. I warily look up, seeing his features drop. Augus was his instructor for hunting, combat, and fighting ever since he knew how to walk. Augus was the one who even taught Sokka to hold a sword at age seven. Through his whole life Sokka took Augus as a fatherly figure, always excited to be in his company, and anxious to begin his lessons. It was a tragic shame Augus was no longer alive. Sokka had no one else to put up with him when it came to duels.

I could see Sokka's brows scrunch, remaining poised and brave for me, his little sister. His eyes harden, any sign of grievance wiped away. I tremble, my hands twisting the pelt.

Giving me a comforting squeeze, he nuzzles me closer, his chin resting upon my soot littered hair. Caressing my back in a soothing stroke, he hushes me, assuring everything will be alright. I forcibly shut my eyes, my head shaking in denial. _Nothing will ever be alright._

_"_Shhh," he breathes, rubbing my back in further effort to calm me. "Everything will be alright. Don't worry Katara. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you." I take that promise into remembrance. Sokka always kept his promises, this one will hopefully remain held.

"Promise?" Curiosity overhearing my sense of trust.

"Promise."

His grip tightens around my waist as he vows to keep me from harms way. I feel the lacking of assurance he would usually provide me with. Was he lying? I can only hope not.

After a few moments of silence I collect myself into order, my tears empty and concluded, momentarily. I push myself from his lock, failing and falling back against his chest as he forcefully -and unexpectedly- pulled me back close against him. I grunt, giving a set nudge to his ribs, whining for him to let go. He does not. His grip only tightens further and he shushes me, quietly.

Looking up to him, I tilt my head. His eyes were narrowed and his lips pursed. His boomerang was gripped in a deadly manner -brought out to the side as he huddled me closer to his chest.

"Sokka?"

He doesn't answer, his gaze shifting. He straightens his posture, his muscles straining. I see his jaw clench, his teeth grating underneath; an effort to look dauntless and unafraid. Though, I could feel the fear prying inside of him. I feel his hand quivering against my shoulder and his breathes uneven. My hands bunch into bundles and I mumble pleads of false truths, persuading myself that this will end well. Whatever _this _was.

Stuttering, I rotate myself facing the threat. My eyelids rim and unconsciously I tremble, backing further into my brother. He converts his arm into a more protective stance around me -angled across my chest and tightly clutching my shoulder. A sharp needling pain stings me there but I resist to flinch. I understand he was as scared as I was; if not more.

In the mere distance, a raider advances towards us, his armor dripping red liquid onto the snow. I could see this man, this maniac, slitting innocent's throats, blood spurting onto his armor that he took a delight from. Underneath the helmet I could see his eyes ravenous with bloodlust. Frightfully, his dry fingers grip his sword with a savage intent. Was this man really willing to kill two children? Given the events of today the result was clear. I look to Sokka, our eyes locking once again. Mentally I say goodbye, for I have come to the admittance of death. My breathes are heavy, my chest contrasting in fear. The soldier approaches, drawing his sword into settlement. It points, directly angled for my chest. I shudder.

Sokka pushes me further into his chest, the fur choking me in its abundance now. This close against my brother I can feel his chest heaving against my back -inhaling deeply, exhaling limitedly. Even underneath the layers of skinned husk, Sokka's jacket was only a limited covering that concealed so much. I felt the warmth enveloping me but yet I still felt exposed. I felt Sokka's fear and concern for me. I was a burden to him.

My fingers tremble. My legs quiver. The mercenary nears closer. This killer, this man, who knows who he could have slaughtered in cold blood earlier this evening. Who knows whose screams he's wrenched from by driving his blade into their stomachs. Who knows whose wails he's received from a child bent beside the lifeless corpse of his or her mother or father. This man couldn't possibly be a human being.

Then the world turned into a blur of color and sound. My mind braced itself for what was to come, flashes of my all too short life passing through. I admit my fate soon to come but I don't seem to fully accept it. My heart shudders; my lungs clog. I bite my bottom lip, my teeth nibbling in uneasiness. I wait.

A distant voice echoes in my mind, whispering something I am unable interpret. At first I hear ma's silk voice, her pitch perfect tone lullabying me into rest. But her voice was too angelic to be something I am hearing in reality. Then I hear Sokka, his breathe brushing against my ear, the frigidness making me cringle. I turn my head to look at him, my vision blurry from the collecting of tears welling in my eyes. He was knelt to my level, his nose inches from mine. In soft words he instructs me to do something I am oblivious to. I focus on his weary gaze, seeing the trouble and uncertainty in it. But I feel bliss from the commitment and protection he places on me. Giving me a slight shake, he asks if I understand. Understand what? Dubious to my own movements my head shakes yes. He smiles and ruffles my hair. I feel his fingers get tangled in the knots and being forcibly torn free. I giggle a little.

Shock hits me when Sokka relinquishes his arm from around me. Being the child that I am I would have snatched it back, snuggling it close. But now being exposed and liable I feel abandoned. I would have turned to latch onto Sokka once again if it weren't for the mercenary being mere feet apart from me. _Sokka!_ My mind screams for his protection and safe guarding arms. Now I feel that I'm in a hallow embrace, no one to save me any longer. I stare to the monster, my childish eyes bulging in fright.

I cower when he raises his arm, expecting the fatal blow to come. Instead, I am stunned to see him withdraw his helmet, placing it between his arm. His hair tumbles into formant, his bangs falling over his forehead. I'm aghast. He looks human. I was expecting a grotesque creature that had beat red eyes with an eternal hellfire smoldering deeply throughout them. Instead this man -with cream white skin, scintillating gold eyes, groomed, black hair, and precise human features- stared down at me with a dangerous look. I shimmy ways back upon the pallid gaze he looks at me with. My eyes avert back upon his face, seeing a scar stretch from his right eye down to the tipped corner of his lip. It was a shade of pink, the streak in the middle a brighter red. I stare at it, dismayed. A smirk grows along his lips, scrunching and folding the scar in so.

"My little girl. Looking at my scar, now are we?" His voice is hoarse and unbelievably unmatchable to his appearance. His gravelly tone was equally split between that of an old beggar and that of a croaking frog. It was guttural to my ears.

Lifting his hand and gliding his index finger over the scar, he proceeds. "Would you want to hear of how I got it? Hmm? I believe that it symbolizes my honor to my Nation. But for you and your brother here I think it might be a story you will _enjoy_ hearing of." He chuckled in his deep, short-cut voice.

"Now, where shall I begin," he says kneeling down, hands folded atop of his knees. The sword was gripped in his hand, fingers compressed around it for if there should be any sudden outburst_,_ or maybe just the enjoyment of seeing the fear in my expressions of it.

His tone smooth and in no rush, he begins. "Have you ever visited the sweet capital of the Earth Kingdom? What is the name? Bah Hing Koi? No, that's not it. Ah! Ba Sing Sa! Have you heard of it dearie?" I tremble at the use of the reference "dearie" casually said to me but nod my head.

"Such a sweet child," he kids with fake affection. "Now, we've raided that city little less than a month ago. Didn't take long for the village to be burning under our rule. There were a few deaths here and there, yes. But you know, you have to make sacrifices for the greater good these days."

"Greater good? That is murder!" Sokka interferes, his boomerang being raised only to have the soldier lift his sword towards him with a humorous smirk.

"Now child, I wouldn't want to hurt you _yet_. Lower that little toy of yours and let me continue. Shall we?"

Sokka obeys, the boomerang brought down to his side. The soldier grins. Sokka snickers.

Clearing his throat and carrying on he looks at me with immoral corruption. I deeply gulp, hoping for this to soon be over.

"Anywho, that capital harbored many Earth Benders that were weakening our forces. We couldn't allow defeat from dirt controlling imbeciles. So we burnt there little village to the ground. A glorious victory I must say. Now Ba Sing Se is nothing but ruins and rubble under the reign of the Fire Nation." There was a proud skip to his speech, seeming that it was an honor to have done such a thing. He seemed delectated to have assisted in destroying such a significant city. Ba Sing Se, one of the union's strongest capitals, was nothing more but rubble and ash. There seemed to have been a vital piece I must've been missing. It couldn't be true though. The end of Ba Sing Se? Though, what it is said to be, "the strongest cities are the ones to fall first."

There is a time pass of silence, the soldier looking down upon us with a hungry glare. There seems to be no more to be said, his story rolling to a finish. Though, instinctively, my curious loom hangs overhead for one question in particular.

"H-how did you get the scar then?"

Instantly, Sokka gives me a kick to the shin; hard enough for a screech to remain forced behind my lips. I spin my head back, scowling him while he frowned back. The creases in his cheeks wrinkled and his frown deepened. I read the message clearly: _Katara. Shut it._

Sokka was partially right -that I should keep my trap shut- but if this soldier was going to kill me what was there to stop me from asking. If it was of any thought, I could be stalling the end from coming so soon.

"Ah yes." The mercenaries face enlightens, his youthful complexion delineating. "This scar was from a dwelling family in the lower section of the city. Cute I must say but discovered imposters. My leading officer had a suspicion for the family all along. How right he was to have. I went in for a search, for if they were harboring any Earth Benders, -very common for those vile, poorer classmen to be hiding them then- and came across a cellar door. It was too late when the husband struck me with a poker -that I must say was freshly picked from the fire- and attempted to kill me."

I was stunned. Such actions brought my stomach to sink. To think, someone attempting murder. Those horrid actions spun my mind into a frenzy.

From behind Sokka murmured, "Are you so different?"

I scowl him then look back to find Sokka spoke low enough not to have been heard. But it was too much of a risk for him to have done.

"Apparently we made noise, a lot of noise. Soldiers heard and came, escorting me to medical bay and bandaging the cut," implying by rubbing his scar. "They put the family under house arrest until there was a ruling made. The next day the choice came to me, on what the family's fate shall be."

Being the person he was, I knew his attentions weren't for the best of the family.

"Now little one, punishments aren't to go unpardoned -a lesson that you should heed. I ponder over it for a while and find the perfect penalty for them to endure. The next sunrise that day the man was exiled to death by rope and his family forced to watch. A perfect verdict."

My heart halts. My eyes stick out of my head. For a second I'm unsure if I was even breathing.

From behind, Sokka's outrage wasn't just noticeable but audibly heard. His teeth grate against one another, scraping against my eardrums. I hear his throat leash itself upon unspoken threats. Sokka knew better. Heck, even I knew better. Keep our mouths shut and maybe we'll be able to live through this.

The mercenary sees our faults and smiles.

"The next day we finish our raid. And remarkably we find belongings hidden in the family's basement. Clear evidence they were sheltering benders. Even though the criminals were long gone we had all that we needed. So later on we lock the family inside and have the town rally as we burn the house to the ground. A given lesson for any of those who dare betray _our _Nation."

I bite my bottom lip, my senses becoming hazy. My mind is spinning and my heart beating faster than it should. I feel myself tense, distraught, and disgusted of this man's sinful judgment. I reach behind, clutching onto Sokka's wrist that had the boomerang partly raised. Giving a squeeze, he lowers his arm and I let go. The soldier watches us with eagerment, noting our shifts of discomfort. His cheek bones define themselves and his eyelids squint. He leans forward, hand reaching towards me. I flinch but relax, my breathes becoming harder to breathe. His grubby fingers stroke my smeared cheek, wiping away the beads of blood and ash sputtered across. My thoughts confuse themselves, my movements hesitant but lenient. Though, I shudder against his hand, feeling the lives it has taken. A hitched shriek pierces past my lips, the man's expression contorting into an exotic grimace. I feel the hand pressed against my cheek heat and begin to burn against my skin. I try to pull away but his other arm wraps around my back. I was afraid if he could hear the thump of my heart or my mind screaming for Sokka.

A loud buzz fills my ears, but in the background I hear Sokka yell and his hand strongly pulling at my shoulder. I would gratefully hop into his arms right now, crying and wheezing, if I could but the man had a stronger hold on me, making Sokka unreachable.

The soldier glared to Sokka, threatening something that involved me being burned alive, and I choke, finding my breathe being snatched right away. Sokka backs away, leaving me, vulnerable and scared, his eyes loudly apologizing to me. I gasp, the air thick and my throat dry.

Noticing the faint smoke coming from his hand, the mercenary takes it away. Almost instantly, when the cold air even tickled along my burn, it stung. It felt like needles being gorged into my skin, sinking further and deeper. I cup my hand over it in effort to shield it, ridding some, but not most, of the pain. My eyes look to him, wide and afraid. He was a bender. This man was a Fire Bender. I stare at him with absolute terror. He was apart of the Fire Nation.

He leans towards me again, hand fastening around my jacket. I shudder, struggling to break from his hold. He only pushes me closer, his vile breathe stinking the only breathable air.

"Now _dearie_," he pauses, seemingly thinking something over. "What shall I do with you? You are a young, beautiful girl and your brother a strong and fine fighter I can tell. You both can come in some use. But my orders were clear." He stops. My heart quivers. I can feel Sokka's worry amplifying behind me. I hear his feet shuffling in the snow and his breathing rigid.

"No survivors."

That instant I am frozen. My heart halts; my lungs condense. The trembling ceased and I stood still as a stone. The man examined me with a pleasure that only a killer was able to have the joy of. I see the sword move, a glint reflecting off of the polished blade. Before I take my final breathe darkness folds over me.

I feel a breeze. Am I dead? I don't feel pain. Am I suppose too? I feel a jerk on my arm, my eyes snapping open.

"Katara! What's wrong with you? Come on!"

Sokka yanks my arm, yelling my name over and over. _Not dead_, I assure myself, happily.

"What is wrong with you? Come on!"

I open my mouth but no words are found. Before I am forcefully wrenched away I take a quick glance down seeing the soldier laying along the snowy terrain. An angled bruise dawns upon his forehead, a trickle of blood gliding along his brow. Is he dead? No, he is breathing. Noticing the familiarity of the wound from past incidents I smile to Sokka, the boomerang tightly gripped in his trembling hand. He pulls me away without another word said.

Dashing through the village we dodge past corpses interfering with our set course and jump over beams that have fallen in our way too. But as Sokka leads me forward I look back to the corpse, seeing a fellow acquaintance now dead and gone. I do not cry though, seeming to have ran dry of tears. Instead, I sadly smile, give a silent prayer, then move forward.

We duck into alleys when we see even a hint of a Fire Nation soldier. Sokka bends overtop of me, hiding me as much as possible behind a stack of crates as the soldier walks by. We are well concealed but counting to thirty after the soldier disappears assures he is well gone and, nimble but safely, we continue our trek again.

I always get lost in the village. But Sokka, somehow, has the layout of every street printed in his mind. He never gets lost. And even though I am clueless as to where we are now I do not question, knowing Sokka has the route we are taking mapped all the way through. I follow behind without a single doubt or worry.

We hurl over pillars and blocks, scurrying through and past demolished homes. Some igloos are nothing but a giant puddle that we splash across and the trading center in the south corner of the town was nothing but table, portings, and shelves to jump over. I trip many times, either being the nine year old that I am or just exhaustion beginning to tackle my legs. I moan but remain awake and alert. I can't let my guard down. Not possible to do that now.

Wild dogs -dead and alive- are unleashed, running through the town panicked. Some bark, some howl, most whimper as they limp or drag past us. Their barks are pained and weak and heartbreaking. Others -pups at the most tallied- are still and quiet. Their eyelids are open and their meek, gray pupils are vacant. Even more, some are abandoned, whimper and mewl, crying for their mother that might, and most likely, not return back for them. I tare my gaze away and move forward.

Further, nearer to the town square, the sights are more horrific. Bodies are flailing about, enveloped in flames. The screams are shrill and broken. Loud and unavoidable to me. Not to soon they fall to the ground, silent, their body shriveled and charred. And-

I forcibly separate from Sokka's grip, collapsing onto the snow, gagging. The corpse haunts my thoughts; the blackened flesh and simmering skin. The hair singed away and the clothes stripped into the flames. The sight was revolting.

Kneeling beside me and patting my back, Sokka commends, tensely, "We have to keep moving, Katara. I can't risk you getting caught now."

I look up to him seeing the nausea in his eyes and feel the way his hand is weak along my back, shaking. Though, I look past the nausea, past the anguish, and see resolute and not much else. Sokka staying strong for me. It was a heavy burden. I do not cry but am overwhelmed.

Sokka gives me a hand and lifts me to my feet. We, secondly, take a short breathe then run past the corpses and move forward.

The path we are taking is a familiar one -the houses that haze past our vision recognizable. Peeking over the tops of buildings and igloos, I see a colossal ship harbored along the shoreline. It outweighs the village by twice it's size and careens along the currents. It's shadow belittles us, shading the streets and alleys in an umbra of darkness.

Closer examining the ship, scouring over the port bow and lower deck, I see something different but do not catch on to what it is.

Sokka yanks me forward, too staring at the ship in scrutiny. The rough tides, aided by the jarred breezes, sway the ship side to side, loud creaks bouncing off and echoing down. My fingers hook tighter around Sokka's hand and I begin to slow, my feet sore and tender, exhaustion doubling at my mind. Sokka, dragging most of my heft, stumbles many times. But I do not fault him; he is practically now hauling me behind.

My eyes search the ship, seeing the smoke billow from the pipes and cloud the sky in their mulish fumes. Ashes dust the village, mixing with the snow. Gray and white colliding together. It looks...unfitting. A familiar childhood song rings in my mind and only now do I see a different side of the verse.

_'Ashes, ashes fall all around.  
__Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

I see bodies; burnt bodies, bloodied bodies, children's bodies, falling. I see ashes coming down and covering them. The croon continues:

_Do not tarry. Do not run.  
We have no need to be done.  
Fall, fall, fall all around.  
Fall, fall, fall; we all fall down.__'_

I gasp and dig my heels into the ground. Sokka falls back, giving a furious glare that would frighten me any other day, then gets up and gives a harsh tug. He stumbles back again. I remain planted where I am.

"Katara," he says, threateningly.

Pointing, Sokka comes to my side looking too. I hear his grumbles under his breathe, silence, then the gasp I was waiting for. We both look at the flag upon the ship, our minds confused but finding the sudden revelation understandable. On the flag was the Fire Nation symbol, drifting along the shores of the Southern Water Tribe. The flag flaps in the artic breeze, fire brewing in the winds..

Sokka suggests we keep moving and I fully agree. Now, as we bound down the pathway, I watch the flag shrink from sight. The speech the speaker of the council gave us when we were younger tinkers with my mind:

_"We live in harmony. We live in peace. We live united."_ Such lies._ "The Four Nations live in eternal peace. Children, you are safe now and for a long time. There is no war for us to fight. The Fire Nation has long since accepted a treaty that keeps the luxury of harmony strong. You have nothing to fear for now and a long, long time." _How very wrong.

The Fire Nation is attacking the three other Nations and tearing them down. They are burning us down one by one. City by city. Body by body. We will _all fall down, _eventually, under the rule of the Fire Nation.

Sokka and I pause before an old shack, the wood scalded and the ice liquefied. It took a moment to process the place -my lips parted and my eyes wistfully skimming over the devastation. It's our home. Beams creak and splinters of wood crack. Sokka runs in, shoving the ripped hide aside. I follow him, doleful.

The moment I enter I land harshly on my knees. I scream and Sokka, who has collapsed beside me, hugs me, rocking us back and forth.

"No," he says. "Katara, please, stop crying."

But he begins to cry too.

I bury myself into his chest, racking my thoughts and escaping reality and the horrible truth of it. Sokka runs his fingers through my hair along with fat tears running down his cheeks, stroking and crying.

"Sokka," my voice shakes. "Sokka please tell me it is not true." I beg to him, padding closer against his chest.

He does not reply and in doing so doesn't have to lie to me. I knew the answer he would have to deny but couldn't accept it.

My sobs come out louder and unsteady. I can not look.

"Sokka," I choke out.

The only comfort he is able to provide is patting my head and staying quiet. He doesn't say all will be alright. And I understand why. I only sit beside him as misery swallows me whole.

Minutes straggle by. Excruciating and uncounted minutes. My throat is raw and hurts. With even more time, my sobs soon fade. I look up to Sokka, seeing a ghost -his eyes hollow and skin drained. I gulp and look away. Our home is wrecked. Shelves, jars, and chairs broken. Everything bare and taken. A coating of dust floats in the air and settles on the floor. It is gone. Our home destroyed.

I wriggle myself out of Sokka's arms and crawl over to the body. As I near closer it is hard to look. But I do. She is not sleeping, not unconscious. Dead. I shiver unintentionally and sit myself beside her.

"Mom," I ask, hopeful.

Nothing.

I shake her shoulder.

Nothing.

"Mom," I yell, ruined.

Nothing.

Whining and wailing, she still does not respond.

I press my ear near her cracked lips.

Nothing.

"Mom," I wail, the realization hurting more than any type of blade.

I hug her, my arms locked and unbreakable. I cuddle against her, her hair tickling my cheeks. My hands claw at her jacket, slipping along blood.

Sokka seats himself beside me, taking my hand in his. It is nipping cold. No heartening warmth. He sadly looks at me, a weak smile useless.

"Stop." I want to scream at him, tell him that trying to be the older brother doesn't mean he has to grieve over me now too. "Just stop. Leave me alone," my voice croaks.

And he does.

He takes his hand away and leaves without looking back. I watch him though but don't yell for him to come back. I want him to go. To leave me alone. After he is gone though I fall back and cry once more..

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Through the night I think of dad, mom, and Sokka. _What a mess, _I admit.

Mom is gone. Sokka is alive but gone from me, figuratively speaking. And I am not sure whether dad is still alive or not.

_The Fire Nation caused this,_ a voice tells me. _They killed your mom. It is all their fault._

I believe the voice. I lean down to my mom's ear, softly whispering, "I promise."

_I promise the Fire Nation will pay dearly for what they have done._

* * *

'I never thought how hard it was to accept the death of a loved one. It has happened before, many times, but never to where I have come to be a broken mess; fragile and feeble to the most delicate of touches. Yes, when someone that is dear, more even, to you are savagely ripped away from your life you are eventually torn away at or slowly dislodged into a blackened, desolate pit. It eats away at you and savors the sorrow and misery that now has swallowed you into a crestfallen oblivion of pure melancholy.

Right now, I am still lost and unresolved with myself and my own thoughts very even. Death is an unpleasant exception that is apart of all our lives but sometimes it can bring more than just anguish and sadness into us. When fruitfully parted with ones that were held most dear you find an affliction that brings a burning lust of vengeance to be found soon afterwards. When the tragic sorrow departed from me that day I found my mother's lifeless corpse I did mourn and cry but I found more of a rising anger gradually seeding itself into my conscious. At first, it was distant and stagnant, an echoing presence that remained looming in the back of my thoughts, but when the time and reality washed by it became a growing memento that drummed my mind into madness and enmity for the people that ruthfully took my mother away from me in the start. The rage that anchored my animosity brought a salvaged and ideal lesson that was taught to me that day...

_Never forgive.'_

* * *

The silence hung around the expanse like a pair of vultures. It resounded off the frozen glades and ricocheted off the climaxed terrain. At the outset of it, it was unpleasing and awkwardly reticent and mute. I perch my lips, licking them out of habit, and reorder my legs back from the numbness the coldness has brought along in it's nipping breezes. It was probable my legs have most likely have become frostbit -my bones practically felt thawed and my skin felt as though it has melted away from my very body. It stung.

The nipping conditions were brutal and tempestuous to the likings of me. The winds were improbable and roughly jarring. It lifted the flakes from the artic floor and guided them into a vortex of coils and churns in midair. Indirectly, I lift my arm over my face, resting it along my forehead when a few strands were found loose and strayed over to where I stood. The coldness seethed into my skin upon contact and my cheeks blushed a deep incarnadine red. I fidget, continually, with a nerving complex.

The winds brought a keen and sharp whistle to shift past my ears, scathing and wafting my hair in it's violent drafts. The braid that was raveled with a precise hand and strenuous amount of effort was ineffectual and ruined in the breeze that disembroiled the hairdo with a spin at a time. I tossed my hood on overhead and bundled deep into my jacket instead.

The ceremony continued, many beside me sniffling and quietly sobbing. Some women were leaned against their husbands who held them close with firm yet wary grip, their hands wavering and clenching into fists temporarily. Though, some men were blank and expressionless, huddling their endearing wives beside them with a stone-hard and stable grasp. I can't help but scoff at them for being so _unfeeling_. How inauspicious and rueful.

A hand wraps over my shoulder, holding impossibly firm. I cinch, instinct and alarm overbearing my fear. A screech is tethered in my throat and I stiffen with tremors spreading throughout my arms and legs. With a strenuous dismay I densely gulp and peep over my shoulder with hesitant latency.

My father stiffly stands there beside me, heavily slouched and lowly poised. He looks at me with a hard gaze, frowning or seldomly smiling. I give gentle smile back and sag into his opened arms, hooking mine around his waist and fingering with the folds and thin lining of fur on his jacket. I sniffle and go to rub my nose but am stalled when an anguished whimper clear-cuts past my ears. I look seeing a women -gray hairs that taint her honeyed-brown hair and wrinkles that line her pale features- fallen onto the snow, rocking on her knees as she cradled someone closely against her. She cries aloud, keels over and brushes her fingers through the hair of a young boy, who told only by just appearance, could be no older than eight. With death taken its toll on him he looked flushed with scrapes and bruises lain across his skin. He limply lolls in the woman's hold and his sun streaked hair tumbles over top of his forehead. She screams a horrible, preaching scream. I cringe and let my head fall against my fathers chest. I silently sob, my chest heaving and my lungs closing. I feel his heavy stare look down upon me and see his serene, murkish eyes glazed and dark. He pats me, then strokes my hair, and then kneels down and hugs me. For a second I am oblivious what to do. Then I realize how hard this must be for him also. I return the affectionate notion with a hug of my own, squeezing tightly and snugging my chin overtop of his shoulder.

He pushes aside my hair, looking deeply into my tearful eyes. He sadly smiles and with his thumb flicks away a newly trailed tear.

"My sweet, sweet girl," he hues. "You are such a strong and brave girl." His body trembles. And as he looks at me with a distinct empathy I see the slightest quiver to his smile and the faintest tear line along his eyes. "So much like your mother."

His voice stumbles, strained and narrow sounding. My assuring smile pinches and I forcefully look away from him. In the distance the muffled cries of the mother slowly, yet ever so prolonged, fade away with a few protested shouts followed. Guards have to come to pry her away from her son and wildly hold onto her as she madly struggles. I watch with an oppressing grief as the mother then collapses onto her knees and wails into her curled palms. The guards do not give her a kind condolence or a simple, consoling gesture; they kick their heel and stiffly walk away. The ceremony continues.

My father suddenly grabs me and sharply turns me around. My eyes flat and my lips dipped, I look to him with a shallow frown and give a small grin. He watches me with a deep configuration. He reaches and cups his palm around my cheek, sadly smiling, and tracking his fingers around the scar ever so precariously and timidly. I breathe in a calming breathe through my nose and laugh on a huff of air. I look up to him and see in those gray-flecked eyes something other than misery or sorrow found. His pupils delineate and his lashes batter. He looks at me with sympathy instead.

"Katara, I need to ask you something." He pauses. "You need to know that I might not always be there for the both of you. You and Sokka need to look out for one another. Even though Sokka might not admit it he will need you at times, and you will need him at others. You have to promise that you will look out for your brother. Can you do that?" I look at him with a firm gaze and nod. Even though I am only nine I know my father wants some rest of mind of knowing that at least Sokka and I will be there for one another when he can not. His eyes lighten and ever faintly spotted, he smiles, genuinely smiles.

They call our names next; my father's, Sokka's, then mine. Wiping the tears away, I look over to Sokka who sadly looks back. His face slacken and his eyes beaten with hours of endless sadness stare at me. His head was hung low and his shoulders drooped. He nods to me and we follow after father with sluggish steps next to one another.

The snow is crisp and bluntly brittle as it crunches under our boots. Sokka, the sibling whom I have always took as the go-lucky, content brother was walking beside me with a wilted sadness that I found overpowering him overall. I blink, flustered, and then look away.

Guards lug past us with the woman in tow; she looks to me then freezes. My lips parted and my eyes squalled I watch helplessly as she is hauled past us. Her legs slide amongst the snow and her arms dangle from the guards lock. She watches me with a drawn look -skin lushed and lips curved into a pointed frown. I look deeply into her aged eyes and only see myself mirrored back. I only see a still reflection of myself. I rip my gaze away immediately and continue to walk.

When we approach closer I falter. I see the body lain on the snow, wrapped in rich furs and skin drained of life. My insides feel empty and my breathe drowns in the air. I nestle closer to Sokka, frightened, and clutch onto his hand with an inseparable grip. I feel his hand tremble underneath mine and the drawn, battering breathes rattling inside his chest. Without looking, I see he is more beset than I am.

_"Look out for your brother."_ I give his hand a squeeze, letting him have the comfort of knowing I'm here for him. He looks down to me with troubled eyes and I think then give a resolute smile and a quick but lasting hug. I made that promise to my dad like that promise Sokka made to me; and those were debts I thought were unbreakable but heartily needful at times. And Sokka needed me _now_.

The guard allows us to say our final farewells: "Two minutes to say your last partings, no more," then sharply turns away. I watch him for a brief moment then look back down at my mother. She looks happy, at peace. There is a soft smile along her lips and a pleasant restfulness leeching from her. Sokka unhooks our hands and goes to kneel beside her. I watch him, sullen, and my father comes beside me.

He speaks but doesn't look at me, saying, shaky but understandable, "She is not dead, Katara; not truly gone," he reaches into his jacket. "She will always be with us in different ways." He kneels down, dangling a necklace from his finger that swings around in the wind's rough breeze. It was a pendant made of pure silver, rusty on the edges and dim on the exterior, but silver, real silver. The interior, a crescent moon locked with a snowflake in the curve, peaked with a brightness underneath the slim layer of rust, lining it with a faint hue. He hands it to me and doesn't let go until I take ahold of it. "It was her's," he stated. "She always-" I cut him off, throwing my arms around his neck, sobbing and murmuring, "I miss her, Da. I miss her already."

He anchors his arms around my back, patting and whispering, "I miss her too. But I see her Katara, right now." I look at him, bewildered. "You are so much like her. Abled, overly caring, snippy at times though," he says with a sad smile. "That is how I remember her. And you; you have that," pointing to the necklace. "It is special. And she will always be with you through that." I feel lost but resolved at the same time. As if divided but connected somehow. As though suddenly realizing I have never really lost my mother after all.

"Thank you," I breathe into his ear, understanding. "Thank you."

He bundles me against him, holding hard. I do the same and close my eyes, letting go.

"Your time is up."

The guard approaches with two others in stomp. We unravel from each other, sniffling and wiping the tears away, seeing Sokka bent beside mother, adrift. Father calls to him but the words seem to fly into one ear then out the other. He goes up to him, yells his name, yells again, then resorts to dragging him back. I look at Sokka but don't see him. Not truly. He was negligent and insensible.

"Sokka?"

He remains statued between father and I, watching mother being lifted into the wooden coffin and remaining unresponsive to anything besides.

I leave it, knowing there was no way to console him now. He was too hurt. Too deprived of sensitivity. There was nothing I could do for him.

We watch, silently, as the ceremony continues. The guards back equal steps away and wait a few moments, heads bent. I watch, almost afraid, my heart hammering against my chest like metal against cloth. My throat flames into an inferno and burns all the air away. I wait, my chest bursting and my breathe disintegrating.

The guards mumble a prayer in unison and then lift their arms, sparking a flame in each of their palms like a match being struck. It grows wider every second, the flame stemming itself and the heat rising from it. It grows from a weak flicker to a strong blaze in only a few seconds, the two flames bending until they connect, creating a line of fire to form between the soldiers' hands. I scurry beside my father, fear and alarm seeding itself into me as I watch the ritual. He pulls me close, patting my shoulder and staying silent. The soldiers nod to one another, stretching the flame from their hands, a mount of fire plummeting towards the coffin.

Every moment that pressed by was dreadful and time seemed to become a long wait, stalling, slowing, thawing, lingering on forever. The fire surged towards the coffin in three separate pathways, splitting through the air and melting the snow underneath it's trail. I didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't stutter, becoming suddenly numb. The fire ran slick through the air and everything seemed so unreal, so quick -the fire dropping down onto the coffin, it's flames cracking at the wood, the coffin lighting up as the fire consumed into it, and the ashes falling onto the ground afterwards. It was over faster than it started.

I hear a distant voice, banging, echoing in my mind. It is fuzzy then levels out to be my father's.

"Katara. Time to go."

I nod, disoriented, then grab ahold of his hand, following his lead away. Though, it is hard to leave.

_It never is easy though_, I remind myself. I look to father then Sokka seeing the different troubles looming through the each of them. One having a self-guilt hatred with himself; the other possessed in a fallen remorse. I look away, seeing it is harder now to completely let go. Thinking I have already done so before, I forget it is not that easy too -that saying goodbye for good is always a lot harder said than done. Though, it is not too late, not yet. With a heavy heart, I let go, completely, saying my final goodbye to my mother.

* * *

**A/N: Well how was it? I know long but I really do love your feedback and would really want to know what you think so far. I do accept 'constructive criticism' and mostly anything else, just no flames. Well, leave a quick review if you can. Thank you for reading!**

**Oh and also, if there is any confusion, the middle part ("Never forgive...") was a sort of addition in Katara's POV of how her mother's death affected her, expanding the hatred she has towards the Fire Nation. So yeah, just to let you know if you were lost there.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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